thrashing. I meant to lean on."

"I don't want it. I've got to walk lame all my life, but I'm not going
to hobble on a stick." Tom looked at him sadly; for it was true, and the
Cross-Roaders might hug themselves in their cells over the thought. For
the rest of his life John Harkless was to walk with just the limp they
themselves would have had, if, as in former days, their sentence had
been to the ball and chain.

The window was open beside the two young men, and the breeze swept in,
fresh from the wide fields, There was a tang in the air; it soothed like
a balm, but there was a spur to energy and heartiness in its crispness,
the wholesome touch of fall. John looked out over the boundless aisles
of corn that stood higher than a tall man could reach; long waves
rippled across them. Here, where the cry of the brave had rung in forest
glades, where the painted tribes had hastened, were marshalled the
tasselled armies of peace. And beyond these, where the train ran between
shadowy groves, delicate landscape vistas, framed in branches, opened,
closed, and succeeded each other, and then the travellers were carried
out into the level open again, and the intensely blue September skies
ran down to the low horizon, meeting the tossing plumes of corn.

It takes a long time for the full beauty of the flat lands to reach a
man's soul; once there, nor hills, nor sea, nor growing fan leaves of
palm shall suffice him. It is like the beauty in the word "Indiana." It
may be that there are people who do not consider "Indiana" a beautiful
word; but once it rings true in your ears it has a richer sound than
"Vallombrosa."

There was a newness in the atmosphere that day, a bright invigoration,
that set the blood tingling. The hot months were done with, languor was
routed. Autumn spoke to industry, told of the sowing of another harvest,
of the tawny shock, of the purple grape, of the red apple, and called
upon muscle and laughter; breathed gaiety into men's hearts. The little
stations hummed with bustle and noise; big farm wagons rattled away and
raced with cut-under or omnibus; people walked with quick steps; the
baggage-masters called cheerily to the trainmen, and the brakemen
laughed good-bys to rollicking girls.

As they left Gainesville three children, clad in calico, barefoot and
bareheaded, came romping out of a log cabin on the outskirts of the
town, and waved their hands to the passengers. They climbed on the
sagging gate in fr